


There is no armour against fate

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: Pitter Patter Verse [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Can be a stand alone, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mild Language, So Much Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 17:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21183449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: The first time Major John Sheppard saw Dr. Rodney McKay, the insane scientist was dragging a Marine about by the ear. He didn't need a doctorate to realize that his life would never be the same again.This is part of my Pitter Patter verse. In Hopeless Place, Madison asks Rodney to tell the story of how he and Sheppard met. This is that story.Can also be read as a stand alone.





	There is no armour against fate

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the quote by:
> 
> JAMES SHIRLEY, The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses
> 
> I couldn't sleep after finishing Hopeless Place, so here .. have a cracky, snarky AU first meeting.

* * *

McMurdo. The ass end of the world, as far as most soldiers are concerned. It's a frozen heap of career-ending nothingness to everyone but Major John Sheppard. He refuses to look at it as the punishment it's supposed to be, because it gave him the one thing he wanted most after Afghanistan; the sky. Sure, he's nothing more than a glorified taxi, but it beats dishonorable discharge -any- day. And, unlike all the other soldiers here, he likes the isolation. Now, it's not that he lacks friends or anything, he just prefers to spend his time alone reading or listening to music. McMurdo provides the perfect back drop for a loner, and despite the charisma every one swears he is in possession of, he really is a loner. 

So, he has allowed himself to enjoy this assignment as much as he can for what it is, but there are still days when he feels .. off. When he can't pick up another comic book or listen to another song without wanting to throw his hands up in disgust and lament the monotony of his life. 

It's on one such day that everything he has come to expect is tossed on it's ass by one bright orange fleece that stands out like a sore thumb.

The first time Major John Sheppard saw Dr. Rodney McKay, the insane scientist was dragging a Marine about by the ear. He didn't need a doctorate or two to realize that his life would never be the same again.

* * *

Sheppard stares down at the little slip of paper that held his own writing, frowning. He had hastily penned the name of the man he was supposed to be flying to the unnamed base but the ink had smeared into something illegible and he wants to curse. He runs his free hand through his hair even as he shoves the useless scrap into his pocket and heads out toward the loading area. 

"Oh, for the love of .. of a deity I don't even -believe- in!" The first thing to grab Sheppard's attention is the voice. It's not too deep or too soft, but has the well worn timbre of a man used to speaking. The type of man that speaks to fill any awkward silence that might manifest. There's also something intriguing about the voice! He just can't quite put his finger on it. "Do you even -know- the function of that squishy organ between your ears!?" 

"Uhm ..." The dull, confused tone of voice causes Sheppard to wince and curse internally again. The -last- thing he wants to see is some moronic grunt giving the rest of them a bad name. He fights down a wave of annoyance and anger at the marine, though he is dealing with it as best he can, else he do what he -always- does ... mouth off.

"Oh my GOD ... you would think the US military would require at -least- a first grade education for recruits! If you're -any- indication of what this place has to offer, I weep for the state of this exhibition!" Sheppard clears a line of stacked cargo crates and stops in his tracks. His mouth falls agape in utter surprise. 

The first thing he notices, because honestly, even a BLIND person would notice .. is the neon orange fleece coat the man is wearing. Its not as garish as the color could be, and even looks form fitted and warm .. comfy. Huh, John actually wonders what it would be like to walk up to the man and ask to try it on. It would totally be toasty, as if it had been laid out in front of a roaring fire for a little bit. 

He quickly shuts down the path of that thought. Well, all thoughts, actually. Because in the very next breath, Orange Fleece has reached out and grabbed the marine by the lobe of his ear and given it a tug. By the time the grunt is fully standing, he's a good 6'9 with the large, sculpted girth of a linebacker and Orange Fleece doesn't look the least bit intimidated. (Sheppard wants lessons, okay? Even -he- would feel intimidated standing -next- to that man, let alone grabbing him in a way that could be considered threatening. The man could pound him into jelly without breaking a sweat!) 

"Three times." Orange Fleece growls and Sheppard finds himself shivering at the sound. It's not particularly authoritative or feral, but there's something unbelievably sexy about it and that's not the kind of thought he expected to have. Not really. "Three TIMES I've told you to keep your ass -off- my delicate equipment!" Orange Fleece growls again and Sheppard finds himself shifting uncomfortably as he watches the man -drag- the grunt away from the place he had been sitting. The fact that the large man is actually wincing and -letting- himself be dragged by the ear is confusing and odd to the Major. "Either you're too stupid to comprehend simple words, or you need incentive to keep clear of my things. So! I'm going to say this just -once- and hope that your pathetic excuse for an intellect can understand me. If you sit on -any- of my crates -ONE MORE TIME- ... I'm going to hack the system of this base and have you redeployed to the darkest, hottest desert hole your military claims possession of, and by the time they can straighten out that you have 'accidentally' been displaced, you won't remember what human contact is! Do I make myself clear!?" 

Orange Fleece is heaving faintly, his firm looking lips drawn into a half snarl that has Sheppard looking around quickly before he discreetly readjusts his pants. 

"Yes sir!" The marine can't help his knee-jerk response to being told off by someone that has even an ounce of authority. Sheppard actually feels a little sorry for the other man, though he would never show it. If this is the -third- time Orange Fleece has had to reprimand the guy over the exact same issue, he doesn't really deserve much sympathy. "I'm sorry, doctor." The tone is a mix between petulant and earnest and he's pretty sure he's never heard anyone pull that off so seamlessly before.

"Damn right you are. Now. Go away and don't get into any more trouble!" The second Orange Fleeces lets go of the ear, the marine takes four quick steps backward, his massive hands raised in placating submission. And then, in a move that almost melts Sheppard's brain, the man plops down on his ass and crosses his legs like a chastised child. Because apparently, he's genuinely -that- afraid of Orange Fleece. (That thought should -not- be as hot as it is! There is -nothing- intimidating about Orange Fleece!) "Right, then. Who's next?" 

Never in a -thousand- years would he admit this truth out loud, but when Orange Fleece begins to scan the area for what he no doubt considers to be the next idiot he has to deal with, Sheppard is contemplating a strategic retreat. (It is NOT running away if every instinct in your well honed body tells you to get the hell out of there! No, then, it's -strategic-!!) However, before he can tell his feet to start working, Orange Fleece has zeroed in on him and all hell breaks loose in his brain. 

"You!" Orange Fleece snaps that word even as he quickly snaps his agile fingers. "What are you doing? Why are you just standing there??" Sheppard has survived a -lot- since enlisting. Has fought -hard- to prove that he is good at what he does, has even allowed very minute glimpses of his secret intellect here and there. However, having the full brunt of those sharp, arrogant, intelligent eyes focused on him is enough to melt a portion of his brain. Honestly. He even thinks about reaching up to rub at one of his ears to make sure it's not leaking out in some kind of macabre horror/sci fi way. 

However, he's like 98% certain this man will respond to any kind of movement the same way a T-Rex would .. with a wicked sense of hunger that he probably wouldn't survive .. not if the threat to the marine is anything to go by.

So, for these reasons, he seems to askew all sense of self preservation and not say anything, instead.

"Hello? Seriously? At least the neanderthal throwback could -speak-. I'm surrounded by idiots!" 

The levels of unfettered snark in the pleasant voice finally snaps him back to his senses .. returns him to his default setting. 

"You know, my Mom always taught me .. if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all ... maybe you should give that a try." He feels something lighten and free up deep inside as he returns to his natural state of being. While this assignment had in no way cowed him, it had caused him to dial his personality back a little .. so it feels marvelous to let it free once more.

"Is that so? How quaint .. my Dad always taught me that the biggest morons find the biggest ways to draw attention to themselves ... nice regulation hair there, flyboy." On reflex, his hand snaps up to shove a few stray strands of bang off his forehead .. and in the next moment, he's smirking. That laid back, don't nothin' bother me smirk that used to piss his dad off to no end. He then leans forward, slowly, until he's crowding the slightly shorter man a little.

"Really? I mean, my hair might be non-regulation .. but pretty sure they can see that orange from space, buddy." The shorter man draws up to his full height, eyes narrowed as he quickly takes Sheppard in. The Major has seriously -never- been so excited by a glance before. 

"Hmm. There are very few materials I'm not allergic to that are warm enough for this climate, so color isn't really a choice. But you! How hard do you work on your hair, to make it look like you have elf ears? Clearly calling attention." Sheppard finds himself spluttering even as he reaches toward one of his ears. Elf ears!? Not that he'll admit it and totally out himself as the big nerd he is, but that is one of the coolest things he's ever heard! And no, he was -not- aware that his hair apparently caused that illusion .. but thanks to Orange Fleece here, he's totally gonna capitalize on that in the future. Would Orange Fleece view that is an attractive thing or not?

He kinda hopes so, even though he's pretty sure that they won't see each other again. Maybe he'll think of him as a fond, snark-filled memory? Yeah, no .. that's just kind of depressing, actually. 

"And aren't you just paying attention?" He snaps back the moment Orange Fleece stops talking, smirking in triumph when those gorgeous, piercing eyes widen in surprise.

"Hmm .. yes yes, and aren't you paying attention to my paying attention, flyboy. We could go at each other all day." 

Sheppard's first thought? Yes please. Second? What the HELL? Third? Yes. Please. 

But in the end, the logic he tries so hard to hide he possesses wins out, and he reminds himself that Orange Fleece probably wasn't propositioning him in any way, shape, form, or fashion. 

"I'm sure we could, buddy. And I'm sure it would be a damn entertaining day. I'm Major Sheppard." He shoves the crumpled piece of paper into his pocket and holds his hand out. Orange Fleece hesitates before shaking.

"Dr. Rodney McKay." And just like that, it clicks! He may not have been able to read his own writing, but now that he hears the name out loud, he knows this is the guy. He also knows that Fate is an asshole. Before Rodney can pull back, he locks his longer fingers around the scientist's wrist and pulls him just a little closer.

"Well, what do you know, McKay .. I guess I get you for the day after all .. I'm your ride." 

With a Cheshire grin, he drops the hand and turns on a dime to make his way to the helicopter.

* * *

Unfortunately, his entertaining day is turned on it's ear when he learns that McKay can be a bit bitchy when he flies. Oh well .. at least he'll always have that beautiful snark to remember him by.

**Fin**


End file.
